


It Felt Like A Kiss

by Big_Boss



Category: Free!
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blood and Violence, Conditioning, Domestic Violence, Future Fic, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Rough Sex, Stockholm Syndrome, Yandere, Yandere Tachibana Makoto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:03:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1989123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Big_Boss/pseuds/Big_Boss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haruka realized too late that loving him wasn't enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Felt Like A Kiss

There was nothing wrong with exposing his bruises to everyone.

Makoto taught him that.

Because they weren't _bruises_. Haruka liked to consider it as a bittersweet form of art, where his skin was the canvas and the bruises sprouted purple peonies, and the distended veins were the vines.

The shower rooms were only a few steps away from the university’s pool and Haruka made his way to it as quietly as he could, balls of his feet first, not minding the looks coming from his swim team members. Whether they were staring out of sympathy or just plain curiosity—Haruka thought it wasn't important. Makoto taught him that, too. _Don’t mind them_. So he didn't. He didn't mind his painful shoulders, or his aching bones, or the irises cultivating on his skin. He made sure to go the showers before anyone else. He didn't want anyone staring at his body, thinking of it as something pitiful. Haruka was standing in front of his locker to get dry clothes when he heard footsteps gradually approaching.

“Haru.”

The voice was too familiar, but still he didn’t respond. He covered his face with an open locker door. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone, especially Rin.

“Haru,”  Rin growled this time and closed the locker with one swift slap of the hand when he noticed Haruka was ignoring him. “Hey, you were slow today. Are you alri—”

“I’m fine,” Haruka answered, cutting Rin off, knowing exactly what the other young man would ask. It was the same question everyday and Haruka would say the same answer. Makoto taught him how to respond. “I got in an accident.”

“An _accident_ ,” he scoffed. “So, last Monday was an accident too?”

Last Monday? Haruka tried to recall. It was the day he went home late, and Makoto was awfully lonely.

“It was.”

Rin probably had an idea already, where the bruises came from, and why he was swimming so painfully slow that day or any of the other days. There was this look on his face—the face of doubt. Whatever he was thinking, it was probably too hard to believe. For someone who was normally blunt and audacious, Haruka was surprised Rin still couldn’t ask what he had been wanting to ask all this time. His questions would always be so vague.

“I see… What’s with you? I won three times today,” Rin said. “You sure was slow for someone considered as one of the best in Tokyo.” He choked out a laugh, trying to brighten up the mood. Considering how much Rin liked making eye contact, he didn’t this time. Haruka noticed this as Rin rubbed the back of his neck, not wanting to look at Haruka's violet-tainted figure. “You… You’re living with Makoto, right?”

Again with the ambiguity. Haruka opened his locker again, a little bit angrily this time. “Yeah.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Haruka answered poisonously and threw an offended expression towards Rin, simply to make him feel guilty for asking stupid questions. He slammed the lockers shut and walked to the showers leaving a speechless, guilt-ridden Rin behind. Rin called back to him and apologized but Haruka shrugged him off.

No one else were in the showers. His limbs were painful when he turned the water on. But it felt even better when the water finally warmed up, soaking his painting of a body. If the wilting purple cosmos on his skin were actually paint like how it appeared to be, it would’ve been washed off by the water.

Haruka was glad it wasn’t paint.

When he turned his head down under the shower head, his mouth instinctively opened. Haruka discovered his face was actually hurting. He gently caressed his swollen jaw with wet fingers. It was painful. So he pressed harder, with his palms, almost crushing his bone. It was as if Makoto was with him at that moment. He closed his eyes and let himself choke by his own daydreams, imagining hands slowly wrapping around his neck, gently but surely—

“Haru! You there? The team’s going out to eat! Captain’s treat!”

With great hesitation, Haruka got out and wrapped a towel over his lower body, not bothering to hide the stained pale skin of his torso. Haruka wanted to smile when he saw the stricken faces of his team members when he came out. Rin was feigning ignorance and just grinned at him, his guilt seemingly gone, or really well-hidden. The others forced smiles, some of them nervous laughs, pretending not to see the discolorations.

“Whoa, Nanase, are you okay? Can’t breathe or something?”

It took one comment from his teammate for Haruka to realize he still had his hands wrapped around his own neck, like he was having trouble breathing, although that was what he wanted in the first place. Haruka stopped timidly, letting his arms drop on his side.

“Yeah, so anyway, we’re going out for dinner.” The way Rin spoke—it was like he already knew what Haruka would say. Haruka wondered why he was still trying. “You never really hang out with us anymore.”

“I can’t.”

Rin’s red eyes sharpened. “Why?”

Even though a part of him wanted to come, he declined. Makoto told him to. So he should do what Makoto taught him. “I have to go home.”

The other man’s eyes softened, shoulders sinking in surrender. “We can give you a ride home at least. We’re taking the coaster bus, and plus the steak house is right past your district.”

Haruka agreed. Makoto didn’t teach him how to respond to that.

The sound of the swim team’s Toyota Coaster leaving and their synchronized goodbyes were loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood, but Haruka barely heard it. The house in front of him had its lights out. It was too motionless, not even the shrubbery around it was swaying. Maybe it was the cold weather, maybe it was his aching muscles, but Haruka couldn’t hear a thing, not even the rustling of the leaves when a breeze calmly strode by.

Before he knew it, Makoto was right outside their door.

“Haru, welcome home,” Makoto chimed kindly, together with an earnest smile. He seemed happy, Haruka thought. “Let’s go inside. I prepared the bath for you already.”

His voice was sickeningly sweet.

As soon as Haruka heard the door close, he jumped by the sound. He was bracing himself by the doorway as he took off his shoes, Makoto walking ahead towards the dining room. He braced himself. He didn’t know why. Haruka heard him coming back, but he hung his head low and tried to even out his breathing. A shadow loomed over his small body as Makoto’s towering figure stood in front of him.

“You’re early today,” he said, his voice was still sweet and Haruka could tell even without looking up that he was smiling. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

“They offered me a ride, so I accepted. I didn’t go anywhere else.”

“You should’ve called me.”

“Why?” Haruka finally looked up, because he thought Makoto was okay with it.

“To ask permission.”

The usual sweetness of his voice melted, his typically warm green eyes darkened. Makoto’s hands were shaking. And Haruka knew exactly what to do. He needed to be calm to calm Makoto, so gently he took Makoto’s hands and lifted it, letting the large hands brush against his cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve called Makoto.”

Makoto seemed to have resigned himself as Haruka’s small hands helped Makoto cup the sides of his face by brushing over his larger ones. Closing his eyes, Haruka waited for a response—waited for Makoto’s next move. He felt his larger fingers clench and then relax again. What would he do? Haruka wondered. The thrill of being hurt again made him shiver. Shiver in fear? Haruka wasn’t so sure anymore. It was hard to distinguish pain from pleasure by now.

“I forgive you,” Makoto murmured, his voice regaining its usual affection. “Sorry, I’m just scared Haru wouldn’t come home.”

Haruka seemed to have diffused the situation. He couldn’t figure out why there was a part of him that wished he didn’t. That he shouldn’t have apologized. But he also wondered; does Makoto think that way every day? That he wouldn't come home one night? Haruka slowly looked up to the other’s poison ivy eyes.

Neglecting the warning bells, he reached out to Makoto, sliding his arms around the wider man's body, rubbing his back with his hands.

“I’ll stay with you forever.”

Something must’ve flickered in his brain, because Makoto reverted back in just one second.

“You’re lying.”

The cold that was nipping at his feet and arms woke Haruka up. There was an unpleasant sensation in his abdomen and he could taste dry blood in his lips when he licked them. His breaths came in gasps, drawing his knees closer to his chest, realizing belatedly that he couldn’t. The clanking of chains echoed throughout the small, dark space. He felt that his hands were sloppily shackled by chains—the kind used as leashes for dogs, tied messily around his wrists like it was rope. Why was it so cold all of a sudden? The shirt and track pants he was wearing didn’t help at all. The old newspaper and used cardboard boxes beneath him were the only things that didn’t feel like ice. The freezing air seeped through his clothes and onto his battered skin as he recalled what had happened.

Makoto must have knocked him out by accident. There was this pain in his mouth and forehead that told him Makoto hit him on that spot. 

In the back of a closet was another door that led to a little room. The previous owners of the house used it as storage, but Makoto dubbed it as something else. Haruka couldn’t remember what he called it, but he knew all too well that it was the most uncomfortable place in the world. It wasn’t some kind of sanctuary. No. It wasn’t like he was escaping from anything. They were Makoto’s sick form of love, and as crazy as it sounds, Haruka was more than happy to receive it.

It wasn’t his first time in that cramped room. His responses were safe up until Haruka decided he didn’t want them to be that  _safe_ anymore, because he knew one wrong word could easily flip Makoto's switch, causing him to fluctuate between being a gentle lover and a deranged man. Haruka also knew that Makoto hated honeyed words, especially when it was a proven fact that it wasn't Haruka's personality to be able to openly and audibly express his affections. The safe answers were usually, “I know” or “Please don’t say that” or sometimes, "I'm sorry". But for some sickening reason, Haruka didn’t respond carefully.

Haruka held his breath when he heard footsteps. They stopped just an inch away from where the hidden door was. So he moved, inching his way up with the use of his shoulders, his joints clicking from being in a fetal position for so long.

“Haru, it’s dinner time. Do you want to cook? Or we can just order some food?” Makoto’s muffled words could barely be heard inside, but they were loud enough for Haruka to understand. He heard keys and locks clink, wondering how many padlocks were on that door.

It took some time for his oceanic eyes to adjust when the door opened and brightness found its way inside the tiny room. Makoto loomed over him with sad eyes, like he was about to cry, like he regretted what he did. Haruka couldn’t figure out an irrational man’s thoughts, so he just let Makoto do whatever he wanted.

“Oh, Haru…” Makoto whispered with an emphatic tone—the kind of tone he used whenever he saw and tended an injured cat or a hungry dog. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” he repeated. Haruka thought it was sickening. He would apologize but casually untie the chains off like it was as mundane as pouring milk on cereal. Haruka let himself be lifted up by firm but gentle arms, cradling him like a baby before kissing the fresh bruise on the side of his lips and bringing him to the edge of the bed to sit. Makoto knelt in front of him, staring directly at his eyes.

“Sorry, Haru. Your bath got cold. Do you want me to heat it up again?” Makoto asked repentantly, as if leaving the water to turn cold was the worst thing he had done.

“Yeah.” Haruka nodded, eyes adjusting to the light. He discreetly checked his wrists which seemed like vines of roses had grown on them. “I’ll cook dinner. What would you like to eat?”

Makoto carefully held Haruka’s wrists, caressing the rose-colored bracelets against pale skin with his thumb. Haruka noticed his hands weren’t shaking anymore.

“Are you sure you can cook? Doesn’t it hurt?”

“I don’t mind.” A small but lovely smile found its way to Haruka’s face. “If it’s from Makoto, it’s alright.”

He gasped lightly when Makoto embraced him, jumping at the sudden gesture. He couldn’t see Makoto’s expression but he felt warm. Was he sorry? Or was he flattered? Either way, Makoto seemed happy. That was good enough for Haruka.

Noticing the room had gotten dark, he discovered he had been in that hidden room for two hours. Makoto proceeded in reheating Haruka’s bath while Haruka forced himself to go downstairs to the kitchen. Honestly, it was hard to move his hands, and was currently experiencing an awful migraine. Just a small twist of his wrist was enough to make him cringe in pain. But he just shrugged it off, hiding the pain under the impression that Makoto did it out of love—which he did. Haruka was certain.

Steaming enough rice for the two of them before proceeding to fry two cuts of mackerel, it didn’t take too long for Haruka to finish making dinner. Makoto came in just in time with plates and meals ready, bearing in mind that most parts of his body was sore as he did all of these things. Dinner went by like nothing went wrong. Haruka tried to dismiss the pain in his jaw and the bruise on his lips. Hopefully, his headache would disappear as soon as he finished eating dinner.

“It’s delicious, Haru!” Makoto said in delight. Haruka just replied with a small smile. It was hard to appreciate his favorite food when chewing caused him to wince in pain every time. But all that mattered was that Makoto was happy.

Haruka couldn’t remember the first time Makoto hit him.

But he remembered being able to endure it because he didn’t want Makoto to leave. That kind of shirt-tugging desperation Haruka thought he would never experience was the only thing that washed over him during that time.

It happened in the same house, in the same bathroom he was in. Was it a year after they lived together in Tokyo? He wasn't sure. Together with Rin, Haruka was scouted in one of Tokyo’s best universities, known for winning national and international swimming competitions. There was an opportunity for Makoto to come with them, but he went on his own to study in a different university, not realizing the high possibility that staying away from Haruka would do more harm than good. It caused more than just _harm_. Haruka couldn’t pinpoint exactly when or what, but something short-circuited that made Makoto so violently capricious.

Makoto would always control the situation, but Haruka learned how to manipulate him in the long run. It wouldn't always work, and sometimes he made things even worse. Then again, Makoto was psychologically off-balance to begin with, always thinking he was holding him back or that he will one day leave him or vanish in thin air. Those were Makoto's everyday thoughts, and as much as Haruka tried to get rid of them, it was all for naught.

“Haru...”

His name being called by a humming voice snapped Haruka out of his thoughts.

“What are you thinking about?”

Haruka wondered what he should say since it was already given that Makoto always _knew_. He let out a relaxed sigh as he eased in, his back pressing against Makoto’s chest. The bathtub was large enough for the two of them, so they took it to their advantage and bathed together every night.

“Nothing you’d want to hear.”Making the barest splash in the water, Haruka stretched his neck to turn and kiss Makoto’s cheek to comfort him.

“Are you scared of me, Haru?”

It was hard to tell what he was trying to do. It was a trick question and Haruka had no idea what to answer. At that point, every respond was a risk.

“No,” Haruka said softly, noting his violet-dyed limbs in comparison to Makoto’s unblemished, strong arms. “But I’m scared of what you’re capable of.”

It seemed as if Makoto had forgotten to breathe, his heaving chest stopping. Was it the wrong response? By now, he couldn’t tell what Makoto would do. Exactly what he had said; he was afraid of what he could do and what he couldn’t do. Still, Haruka relaxed and inclined closer to the young man sitting behind him, letting the back of his head rest on his right clavicle. Haruka slowly closed his eyes, waiting for Makoto to speak.

“I don’t like hurting Haru.”

“I know.”

Haruka remembered Makoto saying he was filled with poison, like a deadly nightshade. He was cold and unaffectionate, yet Makoto couldn’t help being so entranced by his beauty, by his very presence. Makoto told him he was poison, because Haruka made him want to hurt him, made him selfish and crazy and possessive. But even so, to Makoto, he liked having to drink this poison every night, or rather, he simply couldn't help being tempted by the poison every time he had the opportunity.

“I don’t want Haru to leave.”

“I know.”

That wasn't the safe answer this time.

Haruka was aware that Makoto possessed this deep emotional need for validation and security. And every time he had this need, Haruka would willingly provide for him. If Makoto wanted to hit him, he let him. If Makoto wanted to fuck him, he let him. But knowing Makoto, Haruka knew that he was just afraid. Makoto was afraid because there was no guarantee that Haruka would stay, no guarantee that he could stay by his side forever. And so he would always store up every second, cherish every bite, every kiss, every blow...

Now that he was there—cold and bare and soaking wet between the bathroom wall and Makoto, Haruka just went with whatever would please the tall young man who forcefully pushed him against the wall. At first, Makoto was gentle, kissing along Haruka’s soft skin slowly. He was always like that. So Haruka pulled him closer and brushed his lips against Makoto’s, encircling his arms around his lover’s neck. Haruka indulged himself in a much deeper, more demanding kiss. Nervously, he pulled back, enough to see Makoto’s face. He didn’t know why he wanted to provoke him, but he did, whispering in his most adoring voice;

“I love you.”

It was clear warning that Haruka should brace himself as soon as Makoto’s eyes darkened.

Makoto grabbed him by the arm, his gentleness all gone in one swift second, and pulled him out of the bathroom. Despite the roughness, for Haruka, it felt so loving. His lack of resistance seemed to have fueled Makoto even more. Haruka grunted as he landed on the bed. He couldn’t decide if Makoto was angry or just turned on. Maybe it was both. Makoto kissed his open mouth again, breathing heavily though his nose as if he was about to dive underwater. Freeing his arms, Haruka closed what little gap was left between the two of them, deepening the kiss with more strength. He could feel Makoto's anger and insanity slowly mutating into passion. The man on top of him then moved away as he curled his fingers around Haruka's half-hard cock. Then he bent his head on his lower body, licking the head of his cock first before sucking on it entirely.

“Nng…! Ma—Makoto…!” Haruka’s breaths came out mixed with soft wails as he reflexively clutched onto Makoto’s wide shoulders. His hips lifted up and down towards the wet mouth. Makoto swirled his tongue and groaned deep in his throat. He gripped the smaller man’s hips and held them down, fingernails digging painfully into the fragile skin as he did so, ensuring that it would bruise somehow. “A-Ah…! Mako…! Don’t—!”

Haruka’s gut clenched, feeling both pain and pleasure when Makoto’s fingers dug too deeply into his hips, cutting the first layer of skin, causing minor scratches that bled. His breaths came in short, painful pants. Makoto pushed himself up, his muscles contracting when he crawled forward and kissed the other’s mouth maddeningly. There was something enthralling about tasting himself that made Haruka growl into their kiss as he made their cocks rub together. He couldn’t help but clutch onto Makoto’s back, feeling the firm muscles beneath his palms. It was hard to think straight when Makoto’s tongue forcefully plundered his mouth. He could’ve come right then and there, but Makoto wouldn’t be too happy with that. Haruka’s body tensed. He tried to hold back.

Makoto hungrily kissed every corner of his neck, his shoulders, his chest, making sure every blood vessel underneath his skin would burst and sprout deep red dahlias, romanticizing what shouldn’t be at all romantic.

“Haru…” he breathed out between his violent kisses. “Haru… Haru…”

“Ungh!” Haruka shuddered and jumped involuntarily when Makoto bit too hard on his collarbone, stinging his bare skin and causing him to push Makoto back. It was weird that he came on himself as well, leaving traces of white fluid on his stomach.

Makoto, with his damp olive brown hair and his seemingly guilty green eyes, whimpered, “I’m sorry… You don’t like it?”

Haruka shook his head immediately. He gasped out brokenly, “N-No, Makoto, I—I like it… Don’t apologize.” He wanted to cry because it hurt like hell—his hips, his head, his bones... but he couldn’t do anything about it. Raising his trembling hand, Haruka stroked Makoto’s cheek. It was probably pathetic, the face he was making, but Haruka didn’t care. “M-Makoto… Makoto can do anything with—”

Haruka was cut off with an unrestrained punch to the face.

God, he wanted to cry.

The blow was too untimely that Haruka didn’t even had time to close his eyes. He could barely even open his right eye now. From there on, he had no idea what words were safe and what would trigger Makoto to hurt him.

It was an awful kind of pain. And it was Makoto who hurt him. But why does it feel so loving and sweet? Haruka couldn’t decide at that point whether it was him or Makoto who was broken beyond repair. Gasping for air, Haruka felt a hand slid under his hips, lifting him off the mattress. He knew exactly what Makoto wanted to do.

“M-Makoto, wait, please…” Haruka was the one who always made sure that Makoto used the right supplies for this kind of endeavor. Because as soon as he snapped out of his calmness, he didn’t care whether he was ready or not, whether he was properly lubed. He reached frantically for the little tube of lubricant, but Makoto was way below his sanity level, so he yanked Haruka’s arms, earning a painful moan from the person beneath him.

“Haru…” Makoto murmured, his hand slithering over the semen on Haruka’s abdomen and smearing it onto his cock. “Is this okay?”

It was nowhere near okay, but Haruka didn’t want Makoto to wait any longer. He loved him too much. It would hurt and it would undeniably damage him. Nevertheless, Haruka nodded. He said hesitantly with raspy breaths, “…Yeah.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

It was awfully too late for him to say that, Haruka thought. Makoto didn’t need any more reassurance as Haruka’s back arched when he felt long, wet fingers squeeze inside him. He lifted his legs up to encourage Makoto. He was being surprisingly careful, which wasn’t normal at all. A little push would do the trick.

“ _Nng_ … H-Hurry up…” he invited shamelessly.

In all honesty, Haruka couldn’t wait to be brutally fucked. He thought Makoto would pause for a brief moment but there was none of that. Makoto pushed himself against the forbearing muscles and entered him in an excruciatingly sudden push.

“A-Ah…! M-Mako…to!” A wounded groan escaped from his throat. Haruka felt like he was being ripped apart, his body trembling as Makoto rocked briskly into him. “Ah… _Nnngh_ …!” He gritted his teeth, feeling the scalding stretch below. Eyes snapped shut. He couldn’t distinguish whether it was pain or pleasure, but Haruka couldn’t help but pull Makoto closer by the neck, raising his legs further up, trying to get more of the rough thickness inside him. A burning sensation burst inside. Makoto wasn’t going by the book. He started to thrust in an uninhibited rhythm, his big damaging hands gripping Haruka’s hips to coincide with his pace, causing more dark blue patches to appear on his skin. Makoto’s tongue ravaged the other’s mouth as he pushed like a wild animal against him.

“Nn… Nngh— _Ah…_!” An immodest moan escaped from Haruka’s throat, his battered face showing a lewd expression. He felt Makoto burying his face in his neck, biting the thin skin, painting more blotches of red poppies on him.

“M-Makoto?” Haruka asked nervously when the bigger man stopped, sweat dripping from his forehead. His heart was pounding and he couldn't even open his eyes completely. He managed to speak between pained gasps, “…Is something wrong?”

An indescribable thrill ran through Haruka as he felt the heat of his green gaze and the way Makoto’s hands effortlessly latched completely onto his neck. Surprised blue eyes widened as Makoto clenched and squeezed his neck harder and harder until Haruka could no longer breathe and choked on his own saliva.

“Mako—Mako—! A-Ah—”

There were tears forming in his saltwater eyes as Haruka uttered broken sounds, gasping desperately for air. It was painful when he closed his eyes shut. If it was even possible, he felt Makoto’s grip tighten even more, like he had already crushed the bones of his neck. He couldn’t breathe. But he needed Makoto to be satisfied, so he just kept on choking out breathless screams, his voice coming out like interrupted plucked strings of violins.

“S-Sto… Stop…!”

A rush of air came back through his lungs when Makoto loosened his grip. He felt like dying of thirst and lack of air, coughing and gasping continuously as tears came naturally running down.

He could’ve died right at that moment.

“Please don’t leave… If Haru ever tries to leave...” Makoto whimpered. Was he crying too? Haruka couldn’t tell. “I’ll chop your legs off.” He wondered why he wouldn't mind. The only thing Haruka could think of how his voice was just beautiful, like low apathetic strings of violins. “I’ll chop them off. So, please, don’t leave…”

“I… I won’t… I promise, I’ll stay…” The crying desperation in Haruka’s voice snapped Makoto’s thoughts. Haruka forced his eyes—his remaining functional eye rather—and met with Makoto’s changing ones.

Makoto kissed his long black lashes which were dotted with tears before he maneuvered the young man beneath him like a rag doll, forcefully making the sobbing, exhausted Haruka lie on his stomach, pushing his face against the pillows.

Taking advantage of his bigger frame, Makoto made Haruka support himself by propping on his knees and elbows, but he was way  too tired and sore, so it took him a while to bend over for Makoto. The man behind him didn’t wait for any kind of signal, he moaned darkly as he slid back in.

“Nngh…! H-Hurts! M-Mako… Ah—!” Haruka cried out in a hoarse voice, coughing a bit after, his head hanging below. Tormenting pain ripped through him. “It… It hurts…” he breathed out and sobbed, aware that Makoto wouldn’t stop even if he was on the verge of passing out. 

The one with the poison ivy eyes pressed harder against him, feeling the Makoto's chest muscles contract against his bruised back whenever he would thrust into him. His shaky fingers clutched the sheets until pleasure washed over the pain. And he lowered his shoulders, pushing his hips up to feel more of the intrusion. Groaning, Makoto raised him up too effortlessly—raised him up by one hand clasping the hair behind his aching head. Makoto leaned over to bite the back of Haruka’s neck as he kept thrusting. He sucked on the side of his neck, pulling Haruka’s head upwards by a handful of dark hair to get more access to his skin. Haruka wanted to look at Makoto so he tried turning his head back, only to be jabbed by Makoto on his already abused back.

“Stay down.”

Haruka dropped on the bed, losing what little energy was left. He couldn’t support himself anymore, so Makoto took the liberty to lift his waist by grabbing onto his thin waist and pushed into him until he was satisfied.

His entire body felt like it was on fire—prickles of pain traveling all over his limbs to his face to his bones. When Makoto was done with him, he was unwillingly rolled over, and Haruka felt the mattress on his back again. Makoto nearly collapsed over him, just barely managing the energy to wrap his arms around Haruka, gently this time, chanting over and over again as he cried and sobbed, “Haru… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Of course, Haruka would forgive him in the blink of an eye. He would do anything for him. Even if Makoto wanted him to stay in that room behind the closet forever, he would. As long as Makoto would stay by his side, he didn’t mind getting his legs chopped off. He would still be able to swim, because Haruka knew Makoto cared about him, and he would do something about it. None of these was Makoto’s fault. Haruka was poison—Makoto taught him that. It wasn’t Makoto’s fault he was tempted to drink him.

The larger man pulled away, placing his hands on either side of his head so he could take a good look at the person beneath him. Haruka wanted to cry at the sight of Makoto sobbing, to stop him from crying.

“Does Haru… hate me?” Makoto asked quietly between choked sobs. “For doing this…?”

“I can never hate you.”

“Do you love me?"

Haruka drew a slow breath. His vision was beginning to blur, so he just closed his eyes.

“I love you.” 

“You’re lying.”            

He kind of expected that Makoto would hit him in the face. Crimson liquid started streaming down from his nose, reaching his sore chin.

There were no safe answers anymore, he realized. He would hit him, no matter what he'd say. Loving him was never enough. Nothing was. But still...

“I’ll love you forever.”

Though Haruka’s face was already decorated with nightshades and cosmos, Makoto hit him again.

And Haruka smiled.

Because it felt like a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to do a Yandere Makoto thing holy shit  
> Don't blame me, blame this fucking beautiful song [Ultraviolence by Lana Del Rey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EJSk2RySqKg)  
> It was supposed to be longer with force feeding and knifeplay and more fucked up shit but I'm tired and I have work tomorrow


End file.
